At First Sight
by Todash
Summary: An alternate-universe fic. While on R&R, Hawkeye meets a surgeon from the 8063rd named B.J. Hunnicutt. Slash.
1. Chapter 1

**At First Sight**

Author's Notes: This is an oldie from my files that comes with some warnings: it's an alternate-universe fic (not everyone likes those, and I understand that) in which B.J. is a surgeon at the 8063rd; you might find him unrecognizable here and I wouldn't blame you—I feel the same way; and because of that, I've never been happy with this piece.

* * *

Hawkeye scanned the jam-packed bar, not entirely sure what he was looking for, but knowing he'd find it. Or rather, find _her_. He was on R&R in Seoul, it was his first night of three in the city, and he wasn't in the mood to spend it alone. Professional girls were everywhere, but he was hoping to find someone less…businesslike. A nurse from the 8063rd or 8055th, perhaps.

Meanwhile, thinking he might be here for some time, he elbowed his way up to the bar and ordered a beer. Pressed shoulder to shoulder between two other men, he turned sideways to gain a little more space and looked at the man to his left for the first time.

_Wow_ is the word that came immediately to mind, followed by _damn_. A fine specimen, this man on his left nursing a brandy and looking lost in thought. He was an American dressed in Army green, young and clean-cut, extremely handsome.

He must have felt Hawkeye's eyes on him because he looked up then, and gave a wary smile. "Hello," he said tentatively, as if he didn't know if he really wanted to strike up a conversation with this stranger.

"Hawkeye Pierce," he said, extending a hand, turning on the charm. "On R&R from M*A*S*H 4077th."

The man set down his glass to shake Hawkeye's hand. "Captain B.J. Hunnicutt, also from a M*A*S*H. The 8063rd."

"Surgeon?" Hawk guessed, based on the rank, although this kid didn't look old enough to have completed his residency.

"Yeah. You too?"

Hmmm. Must be older than he looked. His eyes were a gentle, breathtaking blue, his face boyish. "Yeah." He accepted his beer from the bartender. "Let me guess," he said to B.J., smiling. "You've only been in Korea a month or two."

"Exactly two months. And how the hell did you know that?"

Hawk took a long pull from his beer. It felt great on his parched throat. "The way you look," he said carefully, hoping desperately not to offend. "You don't have that haunted look yet. Your clothes are pressed, your hair is perfectly coiffed, you actually look pretty damn innocent. What a shame that's all going to fade away soon." He stopped and shook his head, scolding himself for sounding so cynical to a man he'd just met, but B.J. actually laughed. The blinding smile accompanying that laugh nearly knocked Hawkeye on his ass. _Wow_, he thought for the second time.

"Based on what I've seen already, I don't doubt it. Hell of a place. How long you been over here?"

"An eternity," Hawkeye said vaguely. His pulse was picking up now. This man was beautiful and a surgeon and damn, what a smile. He had expected to be leaving the bar with a woman tonight, but the way things were going at the moment…

"The 4077th does good work. We hear about your success rate. We'd love to duplicate it."

Hawk raised his bottle in a salute. "Thanks. We have a terrific staff. Finest kind." He glanced down and tried to inconspicuously look for a wedding ring. He didn't see one, but that didn't necessarily mean anything.

"This is my first night in Seoul," B.J. was saying. Hawkeye could tell he was feeling more at ease now, having found another surgeon, a kindred spirit. "I was hoping I wouldn't have to have dinner alone."

Clearly he was still too uncertain to come right out and ask for companionship, which Hawkeye thought was kind of sweet. "There's a great little restaurant down the block. Terrific food, not too noisy. We can go as soon as I've finished this beer," he said, holding up his nearly empty bottle. "All right?"

Once again, the beaming smile sent Hawkeye's heart fluttering. "That would be great."

* * *

It wasn't until 20 minutes into their meal that Hawkeye learned the bad news. B.J. was married.

Hawk hadn't asked; the conversation had just turned that way, eventually. "My wife had a baby girl two months before I shipped out. God, I miss them."

And with those two simple sentences, Hawkeye's heart sank into his boots. He took a moment to glue a smile onto his face, but he was feeling immensely disappointed and thought for sure it had to show.

B.J. looked at him a little too closely. "You married?"

He turned to one of his tried-and-true jokes. With a shake of his head and a wry smile, he said, "Somebody's going to have to get me pregnant first."

B.J. laughed. _God, I could fall in love with that laugh,_ Hawkeye thought. _Maybe I already have. _

But he needed to get off this particular train of thought, because it was obvious now that there would be no romance with this man. He'd gotten in too far over his head; he should have clarified his marital status right from the start. But he'd been too blown away by the gorgeous surgeon, too smitten from the get-go, that he'd let his fantasies take hold before he had any right to assume. Now he was paying the price. Got his hopes up, got his body craving, only to find out there would be no payoff.

_Back to Plan A, _he thought as they ate in companionable silence. _Back to the bar and finding a woman._

Except that he found that idea no longer interested him. He was hungry for some physical attention, but the thought of finding a woman to take back to the hotel room didn't appeal to him anymore. It seemed distasteful, all of a sudden.

If he couldn't have B.J., and apparently he couldn't, then he supposed he'd be spending tonight alone after all. He sighed. _Shit, why did I meet this guy?_

They took a walk after dinner, talked a lot about their work and the people at their respective camps. B.J. said he'd like to visit the 4077th sometime and Hawkeye laughed. "That your idea of a vacation, Doctor? Because that's pretty sad."

"Your camp is nearly legendary. It's all we hear about. I'd like to know the secret to your success."

"Good people. Hard work. It's no secret, really."

They stopped in front of B.J.'s hotel and faced each other. Hawkeye hated to see their night end. But he would not allow himself to proposition a married man, however infatuated he was.

He gazed at the other surgeon, taking in the handsome features and the genuine smile and thinking, _If only…_

Something passed through B.J.'s expression then, something that might have actually mirrored Hawkeye's thoughts, a yearning like his own… No, that couldn't be, could it? Hawkeye drove the thought from his mind. _I'm projecting. I want this man desperately, so I'm imagining he wants me too. That's just not the reality. It can't be._

He held out his hand, "Nice meeting you, B.J. Enjoy the rest of your R&R."

They shook, but B.J. held on a little longer than necessary. He tilted his head to one side and said, "Would you join me tomorrow for lunch, Hawkeye?"

Hawkeye grinned. "Love to."

* * *

They ended up spending the next two days together. They became fast friends, discovering far more in common than the fact that they were both surgeons at M*A*S*H units. They read the same books, liked the same music, could quote the same movies. Both enjoyed golf, though Hawkeye was better at it than B.J., a fact they learned when they played 18 holes on a nearby course.

"Just comes with practice," Hawkeye shrugged and tried to encourage the younger man. "You're good, and you'll get better."

Weirdest of all, though, after only knowing each other for a couple days, they found they practically shared the same thoughts. They could almost finish each other's sentences. Had the same twisted sense of humor. It was like Hawkeye had found a long-lost brother.

Except that he still harbored a powerful attraction to the man, which was anything but brotherly. He kept his lust in check, only stole longing glances when he knew B.J. wouldn't catch him, but becoming friends with the guy just exacerbated his desire. Instead of getting some sexual satisfaction on this R&R, he was getting more and more sexually frustrated as he spent all his time with B.J. Cold showers before bed were the norm. Erotic dreams of the cute Captain greeted him nightly.

And then suddenly, sadly, B.J. was summoned back to the 8063rd a day early when his camp was overrun with casualties. Hawkeye tried not to sound needy as they parted company, tried not to appear as heartbroken as he was feeling. "We'll have to do this again, if we can arrange it. I enjoyed this."

_I don't even know him that well, but I feel like I'm saying goodbye to my dearest friend. _

B.J., in uniform and looking even more polished and striking on this morning than when they'd met, at first held out his hand for a shake and then said, "Nah," and pulled Hawkeye into a bear hug instead. They held onto each other for a long moment, their first hug, their first real contact, and Hawkeye drank in the smell of freshly laundered clothing and some unidentifiable cologne and B.J. Hunnicutt, unsullied young doctor. Beyond finding this man attractive, beyond the physical craving, he felt crazily like he might be falling in love.

He pulled back and gave B.J. a smile, watching him get into a jeep to head to the airport.

That night, his last one in Seoul, he took a young woman back to his hotel room. The sex was a welcome relief, but the whole time, he couldn't stop picturing B.J.


	2. Chapter 2

Less than a week after he was back at the 4077th, Hawkeye received a letter from B.J. They hadn't really said anything about writing to each other, but when he saw the letter on his bunk after he returned from surgery, he felt relief first, then a kind of giddiness.

Reading B.J.'s intelligent, witty, insightful words only intensified feelings Hawkeye had been harboring from practically the moment they met. There was so much they had in common; there were so many shared ideas. He was constantly thinking of things he wanted to talk to B.J. about.

He picked up his note pad and started a letter of his own.

_Dear B.J., It seems weird to say this but I know you'll understand. We don't really know each other that well, but I feel like you're my closest friend over here. I have so much to tell you…_

And so the exchanging of letters began, and over the weeks it continued; sometimes Hawkeye would receive several in one week. They told each other about their work, their camps, their childhoods. When Hawkeye lost a patient on the table, he sat down and wrote B.J. about it—anger, heartache, and all—the moment he got back to the Swamp. It felt good to unburden himself to the person he was now referring to as his best friend.

A couple of months had passed since the day he met B.J. in the Seoul bar, and Hawkeye could not get the man off his mind. When there was the occasional gap in between letters, both of them too busy to write, he wondered what was going on in B.J.'s life, in his head.

_Dear Hawkeye, I'm almost embarrassed to admit this, but I'm now officially writing to you more often than to my wife. I can't tell her about the things I'm seeing over here, but I know I can tell you all of it. You see the same things and you feel what I feel… _

_Dear B.J., You can tell me anything…_

Hawkeye, formerly the camp Casanova, suddenly didn't feel much like trolling for nurses on his nights off. If there wasn't a poker game or a movie to entertain him, usually he sat down and wrote to B.J. Even if he'd just written him the day before. There never seemed to be a lack of things to say.

_Dear B.J., Sometimes I get a cramp in my hand when I'm writing to you, because I'm thinking about all the things I want to tell you and my hand can't keep up with my thoughts. It would be so much easier if you were just here to talk to. I wish you were here to talk to… _

Hawkeye put down his pen and rubbed his hand, marveling at the way things happened sometimes. What had started as an intense physical attraction had grown and evolved into the most important relationship in his life right now. He would transfer to the 8063rd in a heartbeat, if he could arrange it.

* * *

"The 8063rd needs our help, boys," Colonel Potter addressed the 4077th's surgical staff. "They're a little shorthanded right now. They have a new cutter coming, but he's not due for two or three days, and in the meantime, they're up to their eyebrows in casualties. I'm only going to send one surgeon, and it's only for three days at the most."

"Colonel, I'll go," Hawkeye chirped.

"Awfully nice of you, Pierce, but frankly, it's not your turn," Potter was saying. "I think Winchester is up next, actually."

"Colonel!" Winchester protested. "If Pierce is volunteering, I say let him go."

"Honestly, Colonel," Hawkeye piped up, interrupting Charles before he got a full head of steam. "I'm more than happy to go. I'd rather be busy, and we're having ourselves a lull here, so please. It'll be a nice change of scenery." _Tall scenery, 6-foot-4, with the most adorable smile you'd ever hope to see._

Potter gave Winchester the evil eye, but finally nodded. "All right, Pierce. Thank you. The jeep will be waiting for you at 0900. You'd best get packing."

* * *

"Captain Pierce?" Their company clerk looked nothing like Radar, but then again, who did? He was on the heavy side, and his breathing sounded labored, as if he'd just run a mile. "The other surgeons are in the OR and are expecting you. The C.O. says you can bunk in the VIP tent."

"I don't mind bunking with the other surgeons," Hawkeye said amiably. "I don't want any special treatment, Corporal."

"Sir, Colonel Robertson is so grateful that you've come to help us that he insists you enjoy our VIP tent. Please."

Hawkeye sighed and followed as the Corporal led the way to his quarters. So much for sharing a tent with B.J., but then again, it wasn't like they were going to end up snuggling on his cot, for Pete's sake.

He tried to remember he was here to do a job. Getting to see B.J. again was incidental.

_Yeah, just keep telling yourself that._

He scrubbed and walked into the OR, his eyes peeled for B.J. And two tables over, there he was. Tall, bright, and handsome. Hawk gave a wave.

"Hawkeye, how nice of you to visit our little corner of the world!" He sounded genuinely happy. Hawkeye felt his heart soar. "If this shift ever ends, I'll buy you a drink across the street. We don't have an O club, but we do have a neighborhood bar over yonder. The lighting's bad, but the drinks are dreadful."

Hawkeye laughed. "You're on."

* * *

The OR session did finally end, 12 hours after Hawkeye arrived. He headed to the scrub room, where B.J. was peeling off his whites. Hawk came up behind him and untied his mask for him. Anything, anything to make contact.

"Hey thanks," came the soft, exhausted voice. B.J. turned to face him and then turned on that brilliant smile. "It's so great to see you, Hawkeye. Who would have thought this was how we'd meet again?"

They were standing close…very close. Hawkeye was tired but not quite out of his mind. Not quite. What he wanted to do more than anything in the world was lean in just a few inches and capture that perfect mouth in a kiss. He looked at the tantalizing lips and he was aware his heart was racing. Instead of giving in to the temptation, he forced his eyes up to B.J.'s, hoping he wasn't being painfully obvious.

"When you guys need a hand, I'm only too happy to help," he said, barely registering his own words.

"Right neighborly of ya," breathed B.J., who was doing some intense staring of his own. There was definitely something happening here, Hawkeye realized. They hadn't moved away from each other, even though they had no earthly reason to be standing practically right up against each other. They weren't touching, but Hawkeye could feel the friction between them anyway. For some reason—he was tired, he was nearly intoxicated from standing this close to B.J. after months of only dreaming about him, whatever the reason—he reached out and ran a hand through B.J.'s tousled hair. B.J. said something softly that might have been "not here" or "come here," or maybe neither one—Hawkeye honestly didn't know—and Lord only knows what might have happened next if the C.O. hadn't walked into the room.

"Pierce," Robertson said as Hawk and B.J. took a few steps away from each other. "Can't thank you enough for coming to help us for the next few days. We're expecting another wave of casualties about as nasty as the one we just finished. Hopefully we have a few hours before that hits us. Get some rest, you're going to need it."

Not what Hawkeye wanted to hear, but he nodded his head as the Colonel left. The spell between him and B.J. had been broken. They pulled off the rest of their whites.

"Rain check on that drink?" Hawkeye asked finally.

"Absolutely. We should get some rest, like the Colonel said."

"They've put me up in the VIP tent," he said evenly, curious what B.J.'s reaction would be.

"Oh, no kidding? Could've bunked with us. Well hell, I'm sure you'll be a lot more comfortable in there." B.J. began to head out and Hawkeye followed him. He was dead on his feet, but not willing to say goodnight to B.J. yet. Didn't seem fair, finally getting to see him, only to be overworked and exhausted and practically unable to hold up his half of a conversation.

They got to the VIP tent and Hawkeye gestured inside. "Too tired to come in for a little while?" He tried to sound casual; he was feeling anything but.

B.J. hesitated, then said, "Nah. Not too tired."

They went inside and Hawkeye automatically reached for a still that was not there. _Damn, I really need something to do with my hands, and here I am, without a still to occupy myself._ Instead, he sat on the bed as B.J. took the nearby chair.

"God, it's so good to see you, Beej." The nickname fell out of his mouth before he even realized he'd invented it. It just seemed right. "The letters…they're great, but they're not enough. You know what I mean?"

B.J. nodded. "I know."

"I think about you a lot. Even when I'm not writing you, I'm thinking about you," Hawkeye went on, not sure why he was going down this particular road. He was tired, and his mouth was going to run without any kind of assistance from his brain.

"Me too. About you." B.J. sounded shy. He _looked_ shy.

Hawkeye only stared, not capable of tearing his eyes away. The mood in the room had shifted. It no longer felt like two best friends seeing each other after a few months of being apart. The vibe had turned…sexual. Hawkeye was sure of it. He leaned forward just a little. "You're beautiful, anybody ever tell you that?"

"My mom, I guess." B.J. shrugged and gave a smirk. A brief silence filled the room. Then, quietly: "Am I crazy to be in here with you?"

Hawk reached out and put a hand on his knee. "I'm not going to lie, I want something to happen here. But if you're not comfortable, if you're not sure, then nothing will happen. It's entirely up to you."

"But no pressure or anything," B.J. laughed, and Hawkeye joined in.

"Seriously, no pressure. I would understand if you got up and walked out of here right now."

B.J. stood then, and for one heart-stopping moment, Hawkeye thought he was going to do just that: leave. But instead he moved to the bed and sat down next to Hawk. "I can't even imagine walking out of here right now," he said softly, putting a hand high on Hawk's thigh. "Can't even imagine sleeping right now, either. Can you?"

"No," he replied, his breath catching in his throat. He leaned toward B.J. slowly. Didn't want to scare him off. This was probably a huge step for a married man. It wasn't exactly a small step for Hawkeye; for the first time in a very long time, he was with someone he had actually fallen in love with, and the stakes were enormous.

They moved together for the kiss, and when their mouths met, sparks flew. At least they did for Hawkeye. Based on the moan he heard from B.J., he figured it was pretty good on the other side as well. Hawkeye opened his mouth and felt a tentative tongue touch his own. _Damn, feels so good._ He reached up and put a hand on the back of B.J.'s head and drank in the kiss greedily.

Hawkeye gently pushed B.J. backward onto the bed as their kissing turned more passionate. He wanted desperately to start peeling off clothing, but forced himself to move slowly. "Beej," he said, liking this new name, and liking what his friend was doing right now, which was running a hand underneath his shirt, up and down his back.

Soon—very soon—the kissing and touching just wasn't enough. Hawkeye pulled at B.J.'s shirt, frustrated that he was going to have to take his mouth off the other man's in order to get the shirt off, but needing to get at his flesh. He yanked it over B.J.'s head and then dove back in for more kisses, but he could feel tension now in his partner's body. He could feel hesitation.

"Relax," he whispered, trying to soothe, though his own body was crackling with sexual need. "Just relax."

But his words weren't having any effect. The tension remained. After a moment, B.J. put a hand on Hawkeye's chest, stopping him. "Shit," he muttered, his eyes closed.

Hawkeye, breathing hard and very keyed up, was confused. Still poised above B.J. but respecting his wishes to back off, he said, "What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry, Hawk. I can't. I thought I could but I can't." He sighed, looking miserable. "I'm sorry."

Hawkeye nodded, disappointed but understanding. When it came to B.J., he seemed to have patience he never knew he possessed. Moving to lie down next to him, he said, "It's all right. Don't worry about it." He took hold of B.J.'s hand. "My motor's revving with no place to go, but I'll live."

They lay there like that for a few minutes, side by side, their breathing slowing. Eventually B.J. put an arm over Hawkeye's chest and said, "I'd still like to stay here tonight. Is that OK?"

Hawkeye smiled at him. "That's very OK." They snuggled together on the bed. It wasn't sex but it was pretty damn good anyway. Amazingly, Hawkeye started to feel his exhaustion pull him toward sleep in a matter of seconds. "Good night, Beej," he mumbled as he began to drift.

"G'night, Hawkeye."

* * *

The 8063rd's new surgeon arrived a day early, and Hawkeye was free to go once he finished his OR shift. He stood at the jeep with B.J., feeling a little awkward and dismayed at having to say goodbye to him again.

"Hawk, I screwed up," B.J. tried to apologize again, but Hawkeye stopped him.

"No you didn't," he said reassuringly. "When it's right, we'll both know it."

B.J. drew him into an embrace and said, "Let's try to meet up in Seoul soon, OK?"

"Absolutely," Hawkeye agreed, his eyes closed to memorize this hug. He loved the feeling of B.J. in his arms. Like so many things about this man, it felt right.

They reluctantly parted and Hawkeye got into the jeep. "Bye, Beej. Seoul—soon."

B.J. raised a hand and Hawkeye drove away, shaking his head a little to fight off tears.


	3. Chapter 3

It became a kind of rallying cry: Seoul—soon. They signed off every one of their letters with it. But it was a Herculean task to coordinate their schedules and time off. The war was too unpredictable. Both hospitals were being kept very busy; R&R was like a dream that would never materialize.

_Dear B.J., We're going to figure this out, I promise you. Sooner or later we're bound to hit a slow patch…_

_Dear Hawkeye, I feel like such an idiot for pushing you away. You were here and we could have been together, and I stupidly said no. I miss you so much. Is Seoul ever going to happen? I know, keep the faith, right? I can hear you saying it…_

Months passed. The 4077th treated hundreds of wounded…maybe thousands; Hawkeye didn't keep count. He and B.J. exchanged letters on a nearly daily basis. R&R in Seoul seemed alternately right around the corner and much too far out of reach. It was maddening. It was also all he lived for.

It had to pan out eventually. And eventually, it did.

_Dear B.J., Casualties permitting, I can get to Seoul this weekend…_

By God, nearly six months since the last time they'd seen each other, they finally worked it out. Their long-awaited, long-planned mutual R&R in Seoul. Hawkeye went to sleep every night praying that the war wouldn't heat up and bring wounded for the weekend.

His prayers were answered.

* * *

"Room 107, sir. Your, uh, friend is already checked in." Hawkeye thanked the desk clerk, ignoring the suspicious look he was getting from the man. _Let him think whatever he wants to think. What do I care?_

He jiggled the key nervously as he walked to the room. He paused for a second outside the door and took a deep breath to try to calm his nerves. Finally he walked in, and B.J. was standing there across the room, pouring himself a drink from a bottle of wine.

He was a vision. Hawkeye noted that his hair was longer, his face a little more drawn, his body getting thinner and starting to show the stress of being a surgeon in the middle of a war. Despite all that, he looked positively stunning.

"Hi," Hawkeye said as he simultaneously dropped his suitcase and shut the door behind him. Already he was having difficulty controlling his breathing.

"Hi," B.J. replied, frozen in place and just staring from across the room.

Hawkeye had never been in a more sexually charged situation in his life. And that was really saying something. His pulse was racing; the room felt like it was on fire.

He casually walked over to B.J. and took the drink out of his hand, put it on the desk next to them. He reached up and touched the man's smooth cheek, stroking it a little, as B.J.'s eyes fell shut. They were both breathing fast now.

Kissing followed quickly—hungry, open-mouthed kisses—as Hawkeye pulled off B.J.'s jacket and dropped it to the floor. B.J.'s hands reached out and landed on Hawk's waist, pulled him in closer.

"Dying for you, Hawk," he whispered between kisses.

"No second thoughts this time?" Hawkeye teased.

"Hell no. I want you—"

Hawkeye cut him off with a desperate kiss, his tongue exploring, his hands pulling at clothing. He wasn't even aware of the needy sounds he was making deep in his throat. He started to steer B.J. over to the bed. They landed there together, limbs tangling and clothes somehow being mercifully removed. Hawkeye was barely registering anything other than the feeling of B.J.'s mouth on his.

Finally both of them were naked, though Hawk had no memory of how they managed to accomplish that. He was nearly frantic with need. He placed his body fully on top of B.J.'s, both of them trembling and panting, their erections solid against each other. Finesse wasn't important, not now, not when the need was so great. They began to grind against one another, friction and heat building and building as the kissing continued. Electricity surged through Hawkeye's body with every thrust.

It didn't take long at all. They came at the same time, clutching each other and groaning their pleasure. In his ecstasy, Hawkeye thought: _I've found the person I'm meant to spend my life with._ Seemed crazy for Mr. Keep It Casual to have such a thought, but he'd never been so in love in his life. This was uncharted territory for him. His body, mind, and soul were completely wrapped up in the man in his arms.

"I love you, Hawkeye," B.J. said after a moment, his voice raspy.

"Love you too." He rolled to B.J.'s side and ran a hand through the hair on his chest, waiting until B.J. opened his eyes to look at him. "Don't even think about going to sleep, my friend."

B.J. smiled knowingly. "I don't expect to get any sleep for the next three days."

"That's the spirit," Hawkeye said happily.

They rested for a while, talking lazily and running hands over each other's bodies, and then they geared up for round two of lovemaking.

* * *

Hawkeye slowly ran a finger down B.J.'s back. "Trust me, OK?" In the darkness, he felt more than saw the nod of B.J.'s head. He whispered, "Just relax."

And B.J. did seem to let go of his tension a little at Hawkeye's words. With infinite tenderness, more than he ever knew he had, Hawkeye sank into his lover and gave a satisfied sigh. He kissed the back of B.J.'s neck. When he began to move, it was with very slow, very gentle thrusts. The other man's moans told him everything he needed to know. He shut his eyes and turned off his brain. No thinking necessary, not now. This was all about _feeling_.

Their bodies fit together and moved together like yin and yang. Hawkeye had been with countless people in his experience—more women than men, but a good number of both—but this was the first time he could ever remember thinking, _We're perfect together._

It was the slowest, sweetest, most amazing sex of his entire life.

* * *

It was three days spent in paradise. Three days of love. They barely left the room. They shared laughter and passion; they talked about sharing the future. Neither one knew how to make that happen, but it was a fantasy that didn't seem out of the question as they lay together in their haven.

And when their R&R came to an end, there were kisses, promises, and tears. As they parted, there was a bone-crushing embrace, whispered words of love and commitment.

"We'll see each other soon," Hawkeye mumbled into B.J.'s neck. "We'll make it happen."

B.J. nodded against him. "We will."

And then in a blink, Hawkeye was back at the 4077th, the previous three days already seeming like a dream. Back to work and endless OR sessions, back to a routine he found depressing in a place he hated.

_Dear B.J., I miss you…_

_Dear B.J., I love you…_

_Dear B.J., I'm going crazy without you…_

They continued to write each other and immediately started to plan their next rendezvous, but Hawkeye despaired, knowing it would take another six months, if not more, to coordinate. He couldn't bear the thought of waiting that long. On sleepless nights, he fantasized about going AWOL and taking off with B.J. someplace where they could be alone, away from the war and from anything that would prevent them from being happily together.

* * *

Then reality intervened and the world shifted. Before they could arrange another shared R&R, before they could see each other again, the Korean War came to an end.

Hawkeye stood in what remained of his camp, bewildered. It had all happened so fast, and now he was about to leave this place, this country, and possibly never see B.J. again. Oh, they had exchanged their stateside phone numbers and addresses, with promises to be in touch, and soon. But Hawkeye knew B.J. was going back to a wife and daughter, and he feared he was about to be written off as a wartime fling. He hoped B.J. wouldn't do that to him, but he was also realistic enough to know that most men don't leave their families for other men they'd met in a war zone.

As his helicopter took him away from the 4077th for the last time, he looked down on the camp, a thousand different emotions tying his belly into knots. His three years as a meatball surgeon had been hellish, terrifying, gruesome, challenging—all of that and much more. That experience, though, would pale in comparison to the heartbreak he was going to feel if he never saw B.J. Hunnicutt again.

He shut his eyes and thought, _Please don't let this be the end._

* * *

Three weeks after Hawkeye got back home, he still hadn't heard from B.J. Not a word. No letter, no phone call, nothing. Of course, Hawkeye _also_ hadn't picked up the phone or a pen, so the silence was a two-way street.

He had a perfectly good reason for not getting in touch with his best friend: he was terrified of being rejected, of finding out that B.J. didn't want anything to do with him anymore. He was actually happier not knowing, because at least that gave him a small glimmer of hope. He found himself clinging to that. And dying a little bit every time the phone rang only to discover it wasn't B.J. on the other end.

When the doorbell rang on a bright Saturday afternoon, Hawkeye's only thought was that it was probably the neighbor kid, coming to see if he could mow the lawn and make a few bucks. He certainly never expected to open the door and find B.J. standing there, an uncertain smile on his face and a suitcase at his side.

Hawkeye's heart stopped for a moment. He stood there staring for what seemed like a very long time. He couldn't put two and two together; he kept coming up with zero.

"Beej?"

B.J. didn't speak, only nodded his head slightly and held out his arms, inviting a hug.

They fell together, hugging and clinging, neither one of them able to speak. Hawkeye kissed B.J.'s temple, then his cheek, then his mouth. He shut his eyes and tried to shut out the rush of thoughts in his head, knowing the only thing that mattered was B.J. was here, in his arms, where he belonged.

Hawkeye pulled back a little but kept his hands on B.J.'s arms. He looked into the blue eyes he'd fallen in love with way back in a crowded bar in Seoul, a lifetime ago.

As it happened, neither one of them needed to speak after all. He could read B.J.'s mind.

_I'm here to stay. Can I stay?_

A sweet smile spread over Hawkeye's face, and he opened the door wide to let B.J. inside.


End file.
